


Uti Possidetis

by spacehopper



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Comeplay, Desk Sex, M/M, Possessive Behavior, bottom Elias
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 09:05:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18797251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/pseuds/spacehopper
Summary: Elias belongs to the Eye. Jon won't let Lukas claim him.





	Uti Possidetis

Jon isn’t sure what he expected to find in Elias’s office, but it wasn’t this. 

The tableau arrests him, fingers digging into the door frame as he watches Peter Lukas thrust into the bound form sprawled across the desk. A form that greatly resembles Elias, but it can’t be Elias, shirt rucked up and suit jacket nowhere to be seen, the only sign of his imprisonment the handcuffs still encircling his wrists. As if sensing Jon’s presence, Elias looks up, meeting Jon’s eyes though his face remains otherwise unreadable. It’s enough to propel Jon forward, the door swinging shut behind him as he reaches out, fingers weakly grasping at the air. He’s not sure what he intended to do, and in the end it doesn’t matter, because before he can act Lukas lets out a long, low groan.

Jon freezes.

“Ah, Archivist,” Lukas says, his voice rough, cock still deep in Elias’s arse, hands digging into Elias’s waist with bruising force. All why Elias simply waits, pliant and receptive. 

Jon can’t help it; he looks to Elias. But there are no answers there. His eyes have slipped shut, and though his lips are slightly parted he doesn’t speak. So Jon focuses on Lukas, an ever ready question on his lips. 

“What are you doing?” 

Again he glances at Elias, a strange warmth permeating his chest when he detects the hint of a smile. But it’s gone a second later, as Lukas thrusts in again, and Elias’s composure lapses, a small moan falling from his lips. This time Jon doesn’t look away, instead noting the way Elias’s brow furrows, and a strand of hair falls across his forehead. Jon finds his hand there, fingers pushing it aside, before he stumbles back, trying to pretend the tingling in his hand means nothing. It’s enough to draw his gaze back to Lukas, in time to see him shudder, then slowly pull free.

“I’m fucking your boss. Or former boss, he’s still very much a prisoner.” Lukas runs his knuckles down Elias’s back, then gives his arse a light smack. If Jon hadn’t been following the movement so closely, he might’ve missed the way Elias twitches in response. “But I pulled a few strings, and I got him a bit of a prison holiday.” 

“They don’t give holidays in prison.” Inane and totally irrelevant, but Jon can’t think of anything better, not with the way his mind is pounding, his heart racing, trying to figure out what to do. Should he try to leave, to get the others? Or would Lukas stop him? He hasn’t threatened Jon yet, but that doesn’t mean anything. He scrutinizes Elias, but all he sees is a disheveled, middle-aged man lying calmly across his desk. Letting himself be fucked by a monster who doesn’t belong here. “What are you going to do with him?”

“Some concern for your former employer?” Lukas’s voice rings loud in his ear.

Jon jumps, would’ve fallen had Lukas not grabbed his wrist, holding him in place. He must have moved while Jon was distracted, though move was all he’d done, his trousers still open, flaccid cock lying exposed against the worn fabric. 

“Now that you’re here, maybe we could have a bit more fun, before I have to send him back to his lonely cell.” 

He thumbs Jon’s wrist, and Jon shudders, tries to pull away, but Lukas’s grip is far too tight, and Jon still doesn’t know what to do. So he turns to the devil he knows, and layers his voice with all the power he can muster. 

“Why are you here?” It can’t be for this, it doesn’t make sense. There must be some game, something else Elias wants. 

Elias laughs. “Oh, you truly have grown strong, haven’t you?” His eyes are warm as he regards Jon, chains jingling as he shifts. “It’s as Peter says. I am in his debt, and he wanted to unwind. I’m not opposed, if that’s your concern.” 

“That’s not—” Jon cuts himself off before he can say something he’ll regret. It’s not like he wanted it to be worse than it is, that he thinks Elias deserves it. And it’s better this way, just two monsters enjoying themselves, not harming anyone else for once. But he can’t quite dismiss the knot in his stomach, that only grows tighter as Lukas reaches for Elias, fisting a hand in his hair. 

Jon stares at Elias, as Lukas babbles on about something Jon knows is irrelevant even as he fails to mark the individual words. It’s how Lukas works, chatting away with a faux joviality so that when people can’t connect, they always wonder if they're the problem. As he thinks it, the lines around Elias’s eyes tighten, and Jon looks harder. Lukas’s prattle fades further under the roaring in his ears, as his vision narrows down to a point. The cuffs cut into his wrists, and the edge of the desk digs into his stomach. A ridiculous excess of heavy mahogany, but he’d always enjoyed the way visitors shrunk before it, cowering under his steady gaze. But not Peter, never Peter, with his bets and his games. So he suffers this petty indignity, tolerates the way Peter toys with him. Or he had, until Jon had come, drawn to him, and now he wants—

Elias wants. 

Pulling back, Jon sees that Lukas has fallen silent, knows that he is not as brash as he pretends. This is not his place of power, and he dismisses Jon because he fears him, fears what he is becoming. Jon turns his gaze to Lukas, watches as the panic rises in his empty eyes, the realization that there is nothing he can do to escape the Archivist, ever watchful. A little more, and he will be laid bare, as he laid Elias bare, as he should not have laid Elias bare. Elias is not his to see. 

“He belongs to the Eye,” Jon says, voice low and far too steady with a confidence his own and not his at all. 

Lukas grits his teeth to stop the scream, but he will not last much longer, will not escape, will not—

“Jon.” 

And just like that, Jon is caught. Cold chains brush his arm as Elias’s fingers press against his wrist, gentle but firm, holding him even as he tries to spin onwards, desperate to continue, to record every secret Lukas might be hiding. Someday, perhaps, Elias won’t stop him, will gladly let him take and take and take. 

“Stop.” Elias holds on for a moment longer, then pulls away. “Peter is our ally.” 

Jon stops. 

When he looks at Lukas again, it’s through human eyes, the only trace of what had happened the slight shake in Lukas’s hands as he guides an unresistant Jon behind the desk. Panic coils in Jon’s throat, at what he did, at what he wants now. It doesn’t make sense, he wanted Elias gone, wants Elias gone. And yet when Lukas brackets Jon between his arms and places his own hands on Elias’s arse, it’s all Jon can do not to shove those hands away. To replace them him his own. 

“I—I don’t—” He looks desperately towards the door, but there’s no help coming. No one knows he’s here. And the worst part is that he still isn’t sure he wants to leave. He keeps searching, and finds himself looking down at Elias’s arse again, the traces of Lukas’s come still lingering around his hole. It doesn’t belong there, and the thought spurs Jon forward, pushing a finger inside before he’s truly made a decision. 

His finger curls, trying to drag the come free, but one finger isn’t enough. A second follows, then a third, as Elias twitches hot and tight around him. After each time, he wipes his fingers on Lukas’s arm. It’s his fault, after all. He can deal with the mess. But even then it’s not enough, he needs more, twisting his hand to shove a fourth finger in as Elias jerks against the desk. The noise he makes as Jon goes deeper is one he’ll catalog for later. But now, even this is not enough. He yanks his hand free as Elias gasps, rubbing it against Lukas’s shirt, preparing to go even further.

A hand around his wrist stops him, blunt nails digging in enough to jostle him from whatever fugue state he’d entered. His breath is coming in harsh gasps, and though he tries to pull away, Lukas is still behind, his solid bulk keeping Jon firmly in place. 

“Let me go, I don’t, I can’t—” He can’t breathe, as panic rises, but then he doesn’t need to breathe. Heart unbeating, lungs unmoving, an echo of a statement Jon knows but didn’t hear. Unmoored, he flounders, some distant part of him aware that Lukas’s free hand has moved to his trousers, pulling Jon’s cock free before placing Jon’s own hand around it. 

“I know you Beholding sorts tend to be a bit, hmm, possessive?” Lukas’s breath tickles Jon’s neck, his chest pressing closer as he returns his hands to Elias, tugging at the edges of his tender hole. It eases open under Lukas’s touch, already stretched by his cock, by Jon’s all too eager fingers. “And truly, I don’t really care. So why don’t I help you out?” 

The clock ticks in the background as Jon stares blankly at the scene before him, Lukas’s thick fingers holding the edges back for—for Jon. Holding Elias open and empty and waiting to be filled by what Jon can give him. Eager for it, in a way he is not, will never be eager for Lukas. Slowly, Jon’s hand tightens around his cock, and he gives it a tug. Again, he runs his hands over it, but it isn’t enough.

That’s when Elias begins to speak.

It’s a statement, one meaningless on its own, not about any ritual or the Watcher’s Crown, but Jon drinks it up all the same, feels his cock swell as he’s suffused with Elias’s sonorous tones. His hand follows Elias’s cadence, stuttering only briefly as Elias’s voice catches when Lukas tugs his hole even wider. Dread settles hot and familiar, lower than he’s used to, pushing him towards the ecstatic crescendo of a new and treasured fear. When he comes, Elias’s name is on his lips, Elias’s body his only focus as he marks Elias, spurting into his waiting hole. All while below him Elias falls silent with a shudder, and Jon knows that he has come too. 

“Impressive, Elias, given your age,” Lukas says. 

Jon ignores him, fingers pushing into Elias’s hole anew, no longer scraping him clean but instead forcing the come deeper, so that some trace will be left even when Elias was returned to prison. Elias moans, far louder than before, as Jon’s fingers brush something inside him, again and again as he guides his seed inside. 

“Ah, it seems you’ve finally lost your precious dignity. If I’d knew this was all it would take, I would’ve tried it sooner.” Lukas’s chest shakes against Jon’s back, and he gives Elias’s arse a slap. 

Jon suppresses his irritation, more concerned with other matters as his eyes dart around the room, looking for something, to hold it all there, to keep Lukas out, to keep everyone out. Something thick and heavy drops into his palm, and Jon stares at it for a moment, before flushing with understanding. 

“You’re welcome,” Lukas says, sounding far too smug. 

It seems too large, but then it has to be, in order to work like Jon needs, like Elias needs. Before Jon can think better of it, he thrusts it inside, drinking in the sound of Elias’s gasps as he adjusts to the intrusion. Despite what he’d just done, Jon still hesitates, a hand hovering over Elias’s back as Lukas steps away.

“Jon,” Elias says, his voice hoarse but fond. “My Jon.” 

Something cracks in Jon, at that, and his hand descends, rubbing circles in Elias’s back, mapping out the bumps and imperfections he somehow already knows. A calm has set in, strange and surreal. Underneath it, panic swirls, the knowledge that once whatever spell this is breaks, Jon will not be the same. But for now?

He and Elias are whole.


End file.
